The Architect Of Infamy
by MySadCaptains
Summary: When her older sister was kidnapped by The Joker, people pretty much forget about Beatrix. When her sister is returned alive she finds that the only person who notices her is the man who started all of the trouble in the first place. The Joker. (No OC pairings because I'm evil. This won't be a happy story I'm so sorry.)
1. Chapter 1

I never really liked my sister. I'll be the first one to say that it was mostly based on jealousy. She was older, prettier, her body was nicer, her hair was blonder and shiner, she dressed in actual womens clothes, she had boys chasing after her, she was smarter, she was just better than me in almost every way imaginable. She even has a better name than me. Her name is Trinity. Mine is Beatrix. I'm not saying that I have a bad name. I'm just saying that Trinity didn't get bullied for 'having an old lady name'. Trinity has never even been bullied before. Unless you call being tortured on video which soon gets sent to the news station bullying.

You see, my sister was on the cover of every newspaper in Gotham. She isn't famous. Not in a good way at least. Six months ago, just a few weeks after she had turned twenty, Trinity was kidnapped by The Joker. He wanted to make a point. I never really read the newspapers or watched the news so I don't really know what that exact point is. All I know is that one morning I woke up to my parents sobbing downstairs with a police officer. They told me to go back to bed, which was odd, usually my parents are telling me to get out of bed. I did as I was told. I crawled back under my quilts and closed my eyes but sleep didn't come. I was too hot but i didnt dare move. I kept my eyes closed and my body still. After an hour a female police officer came into my room, sat on the edge of my bed and looked at me with sad eyes. She told me about my sister being kidnapped. She assured me that everything was going to be alright. She lied.

/

My parents woke me up when it was still dark. I knew something was wrong because they never usually interact with me. They were smiling which also indicated that something was wrong. Since Trinity was taken they hadn't smiled at anything. Even on my birthday.

"Beatrix! She's alive! Your sister is alive!" My mother yelled. I groaned and pulled the blanket up over my head. This wasn't new information. The videos The Joker sent into the news, the videos when he tortured my sister and humiliated her, proved that she was still alive no matter how much she didn't want to be. Nobody with screams that loud could be dead. Not that I ever really watched the videos. I'd stroll in on my mother and father sobbing over them and I'd catch glimpses of screen shots in the morning paper but I never really sat down to watch them.

"Get out of bed. They've found her. They've actually found her." My father exclaimed. "She's in the hospital. We're going to go and visit her. Be ready in an hour or we're leaving without you."

"Can't I just sleep?" I asked under my breath. I never intended for anyone to hear me. My mind was clouded with sleep and I knew that I didn't mean it.

"How could you be so selfish?" My mother spat. They don't give me time to answer. Instead, they storm out of my room leaving me to get up and ready. I did get ready but I took my sweet time doing it. I pulled on an oversized cardigan, a pair of jeans and my boots before dragging a comb through my hair and sitting down on my sofa for exactly twelve minutes.

"Jesus Christ, Beatrix, hurry up." My father's voice bellowed up from the bottom of the stairs.

"I just need to take my pills and feed the fish." I called down.

"Those fish..." I heard my father growl to my mother. They hated my fish so much and I never exactly found out why. They were the loveliest little goldfish ever. Their names were Kilkenny and Galway. Galway's the biggest.

After I've fed them I popped my anti-depressants in my mouth and swallow them down with a gulp from my bottle of pepsi which had been living in my room for the past few days. The anti-depressants were prescribed to me after my sister went missing. I didn't even think I needed therapy. Mother and Father just needed to trick themselves into thinking I was handling this like a normal person. They wanted me to have a meltdown.

I grabbed my satchel which contained my book, my phone and a purse. There was no money in the purse. I was a student without a job. There was also no numbers in the phone. Well, that's a lie. I had my parents, relatives, a few fast food places and a few people who would never call. People who gave me their number years ago and changed it. I had my therapist's number as well, actually. Not that I rang her. I didn't like her at all.

/

I didn't want to see her. I didn't want to go into the hospital room but my parent's almost dragged me in there. Like I said before, I never really liked my sister but I did, of course, love her. She was my sister. It was almost like an unwritten law that deep down you have to love your sister.

To say that Trinity was in a 'bad state' was an understatement. She was lying on the hospital bed, eyes wide open and staring off into the distance. She didn't even acknowledge us as we entered. Mother said something to her about bringing her 'little sister in' to see her. She didn't even flinch. She was covered in bandages which were already stained with the yellow pus that were oozing out of her infected wounds. Her hair was gone, completely shaved off, leaving only scabs and sores on her scalp. Her lips were dry, cracked and bleeding. It was only then that what The Joker did to my sister really hit me. It was only then that the anti-depressants failed me and every negative emotion that my parents had been feeling for the past six months ran out of my body.

I burst into tears, yanking myself away from the grip my father had on my shoulder I ran out of the room. People stared at me as I ran past them towards the toilets. When I got to my destination I collapsed to my knees in one of the cubicles, gripped the rim of the toilet seat and vomited into the toilet bowl. Now, I don't know if you have ever vomited from something other than sickness. From fear, disgust, anxiety or sadness. If you haven't then let me tell you this. It is absolutely horrible. It's a billion times worse if you don't have anything in your stomach apart from a singular pill. All you can do is struggle for breath as every bit of bile or acid or whatever that shit is, tries to crawl up your throat and out into freedom.

My mother and father didn't come to try and find me. They stayed with Trinity. I stayed in the toilet cubicle. With shaking hands I opened my bag and grabbed out my phone. I scrolled through the names. I wanted to ring somebody and tell them. It had finally happened. I was finally crying over my sister. I finally felt the emotions that they had all expected. My first choice was my cousin but I quickly decided not to. It was early hours of the morning and she had children. She had a life that I was just a side note to.

Next my finger hovered over my therapist. Before I knew what I was doing I had already pressed call. I pressed the phone to my ear and listened to it ring. Ring, ring, I pushed my head back against the wall and looked up at the cracking ceiling above me. Ring, Ring.

"Beatrix?" The woman's voice said. "Do you know what time it is?" My throat closed up. I suddenly had no idea what to say. I just listened. I could hear someone in the background. Her husband maybe? They were telling her to get back to bed. "Beatrix? Are you there?" I ripped the phone from my ear and hung up. She didn't care. She was paid to care. She, like everyone else, cared more about my sister than me. They saw her as an angel. She wasn't. Don't think that this is just me being jealous. Everyone does because God forbid a person who was being held at the mercy of an evil criminal have a shred of horridness in herself.

My parents forgot how horrible she was to me the moment she disappeared. I once made the mistake of saying a bad word about her.

A week after we found out that she had been kidnapped, I was in her room looking for a pair of my jeans that she had borrowed months before. When I was there, in her wardrobe, I found a shoe box. Inside the shoebox was the necklace I had 'misplaced' a while back, the computer games I had 'left somewhere' and $50. On my birthday I had 'lost' $50 of my birthday money. Of course I knew from the start that I hadn't lost it. I knew for a fact that I had put it in my piggy-bank before I fell asleep. Anyway, I went downstairs with the shoebox. I was shocked. I had just found out that my own sister had stolen from me. I showed my mother and father the shoebox and explained the whole thing. Instead of being disappointed in my sister they grounded me for a week for going into my sisters room.

I know I sound selfish, self centered and probably very stupid but sometimes I just wish it was me who got kidnapped just so my parents could realise that they have another daughter as well.

The words 'be careful what you wish for' have never been so relevant.

/

**_Authors Note: _**_I'M BACK! I'M WRITING AGAIN! HOW CREEPY IS THIS?! _

_OK, so I've had this written for a good while. I'm a good few chapters in but I never published it because... well I don't really know.  
_

_I just know that if I publish it now and get reviews it will be enough to make me write more and more. _

_but not too much because guess who has two full time college courses on the go because she's an idiot. _


	2. Chapter 2

Trinity had to stay in the hospital. So we had to keep visiting her. Every single day. I didn't go into the room again though. Instead I waited outside, doing homework or reading on a hard plastic chair in a sparkling clean hallway. I'd love to say that I made friends with a nice doctor or nurse but that would be a lie. Everyone in the hospital glared at me as they walked past. I knew what they were thinking. They were thinking that I was a heartless little girl who didn't want to see her own sister who was dying in the next room. Maybe that was true. The only person who shown any shred of niceness to me was Commissioner Gordon. He came into the hospital two days after Trinity had been admitted.

"Excuse me, is this Trinity Green's room?" A voice had asked one afternoon when sitting on one of the benches outside Trinity's room. I was doing my maths homework and was pretty annoyed that someone had interrupted me. I looked up to see a man with glasses and a thick moustache looking down at me. He looked familiar. I tried to figure out who he was but my mind only presented me with blanks. All I knew was that I was sure I had seen this man in my house at some point, talking to my parents while I probably hid. A lot of people I didn't know had been in and out of our house for the past few months. Police men, detectives, lawyers and men with job titles I couldn't pronounce.

"I'm not allowed to speak to reporters." I said as I tapped the end of my pen against my work. The man frowned slightly in confusion. He waved his hand as if it could wave away the question.

"I'm not a reporter. I'm Commissioner Gordon." He said with a kind smile. I bit my lip nervously. I didn't know what a 'commissioner' was. For all I knew it could be a fancy name for a journalist or something and if I let a journalist into my sister's room then my parent's would probably kill me. I looked around for a doctor to help me but the hallway was empty. "I'm here to ask Trinity some questions..."

"No way." I heard myself say quickly. "My parents won't let you. She's not even speaking to them yet." I saw that Commissioner Gordon was confused. He probably didn't even know that Trinity had a little sister. If he did then he had probably forgotten. I cleared my throat and offered a small smile. "My name's Beatrix. I'm Trinity's younger sister."

"Oh." Commissioner Gordon said awkwardly. He shifted from one foot to another and smiled. "Pleasure to meet you." He stood still for a few seconds before stiffly taking a seat next to me. I smiled, looking at me feet, no one really spoke to me much in the hospital so it was quite pleasant to have some human contact for once. I closed my maths book and looked up at him. He looked like a man who worried a lot about a lot of different people. "How's she doing?"

"Fine." I lied. She wasn't doing fine. She was doing terribly. I felt harsh as soon as the words left my mouth. I had passed off her injuries as fine as if they were nothing but a grazed knee. I took a deep breath and started again. "Actually, not so fine. She's in a lot of pain and she needs more operations." I felt like a child as I said that. Doctors and nurses could say in such a professional way. They made it sound serious. I made it sound like it was a game.

"Can I ask you a few questions... about her and, erm, how she's... coping?" Commissioner Gordon asked. I looked back down at my homework and held back a sigh. I shrugged as I opened it back up. I began to do my work again or at least tried to. I hoped he took it as a sign that I didn't really want to talk about Trinity for much longer.

"I guess." I mumbled. "I don't really know much though. I never really got involved it in it all."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't really go in and see her now either. Mum said it's too upsetting. For me or her, I don't know. I haven't even watched any of the videos The Joker sent into the news." I admitted. "I've seen freeze frames of them in the news papers and I walked in on my mom and dad watching them a few times but I never really saw more than a few seconds of it. "

"Too traumatic?" Commissioner Gordon asked sympathetically. I shrugged again.

"I try to avoid television. They give you unrealistic expectations about beauty and such. I watch a few things though. Like Game of Thrones or American Horror Story or Sherlock." I babbled. I sighed and looked up at him. "I'm sorry but I'm not the best person to ask if you want to find out anything about my sister. We were never really close."

And then Commissioner Gordon said something that, since my sister had been, I haven't heard anyone say to me. He said: "I understand."

/

The deal with my sister and visiting hours is that they do not apply to her. She can have anyone with her whenever she wants. Sometimes my parents stayed in the hospital all night, leaving me home alone. I preferred being home alone than being in the hospital. I'd stay in my room for the night. I'd lie on my floor and watch as the smoke from my incense sticks raised up and danced in the air above my face. I'd listen to my music really loud and I'd order in a Chinese meal for my dinner. I'm pretty sure that most of my happiness of being alone was just me kidding myself into thinking I'm happy and not lonely at all. I'd pretend that everything I was doing was so rebellious even though if my parents caught me doing what I was doing they wouldn't care at all.

"Shouldn't you be at the hospital?" A teenage boy called as he and his friends walked next to me. I was pretty sure a few of them were in my class. I shrugged and kept my head down. I was walking home from school, expecting to go back to an empty house where I'd curl up in bed and do absolutely nothing for a few hours. "Why don't you care about your sister?"

"I do. Why do you care about me caring about my sister?" I mumbled back. I just wanted to get home. I wanted to be alone.

"You're a freak." The boy laughed as he and his friends fell out of step with me. I shrugged again. I got that a lot. It was because I didn't have any friends and I was rather interested in serial killers. My parents hated that. I was reading a book on Charles Manson a week after my sister had been taken and my father took it from me. I don't know what he did with it. I expect he burnt it because that's what he was shouting about doing. He said I was inconsiderate. I said that Charles Manson didn't kidnap my sister. Charles Manson had nothing to do with it. He asked why I was defending Charles Manson. I told him I wasn't. It was just a fact. Charles Manson had nothing to do with my sister. He grounded me for being a smart ass.

The house was silent when I walked in. It was times like these when I wish we had a dog to greet me when I came home. I hate coming home to an empty house. Before Trinity was taken it was never like this. The house was never silent. Then The Joker came along and sucked the happiness out of all of our lives.

The sound of the television from the living room snapped me out of my sulking thoughts. I didn't leave the television on that morning, I was sure of it. I felt a cold stab of fear right in my gut as I took a shaky step towards the living room. I should have called my parents right then but what would they have said.? They'd have told me to stop being so stupid. Maybe it was a family member. Perhaps a police officer or someone from the law. Someone who had made themselves far too comfortable and at home in the living room. Someone waiting for me.

So, with a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

Seeing who was there, sitting in my house on my sofa, made every part of me freak out. My knees turned to jelly but somehow I managed to stay standing. My throat swelled up, my eyes widened, my lip began to tremble, tears began to gather in my eyes... basically I felt utterly terrified. Because there, sitting in my living room, was The Joker.

"You're not Trin-i-ty." He said, popping each syllable of my sister's name. I shook my head furiously. I couldn't speak. I stared at him, wondering whether this was one of the 'vivid dreams' brought on by my anti-depressants. His scars and grease paint was certainly vivid. He sucked at his cheek and tilted his head. This couldn't be a dream. My dreams weren't this smooth or logical. "I'm sure she won't be happy to know that you're in her house." He got up from the seat and walked towards me. I didn't run. Looking back on it now I know that I should have. Perhaps it was fear. I always yelled at the girls in the horror movies for not running but now I understood. You get to a certain level of fear where everything in your body just yells 'NOPE'. "What's your name, princess?" The Joker asked as he got closer and closer.

"Beatrix." I said. I was on autopilot. He could have asked me anything and I would have answered without thinking it through. My voice was shaking and too loud. It didn't sound like my own. The Joker smiled, clearly impressed that I even managed to talk and not just cry. He got closer and closer to me until his chest was just a few centimeters away from mine. Then, in an instant, he whipped something out from his pocket, a knife. I yelped as I felt it being pressed against my jaw. A knife.

"And, Be-a-trix, what are you doing in this house?" He asked. The tip of the knife traced my jaw line. I tried to tilt my head back, away from the blade, but as soon as The Joker caught on to what I was doing he grabbed the back of my head and held it still. The tip of the knife pressed into my skin, threatening to pierce it and spill my blood. He wanted an answer.

"I live here." I answered. The knife stopped and The Joker looked me in the eyes. Ah, he wasn't expecting that. "I'm Trinity's sister." I explained. A flash of confusion ran through his eyes and I felt myself become slightly disappointed. Even The Joker, this evil genius who seemed to know everything about everything didn't even know I existed. He knew Trinity inside and out but he didn't know about me. He had even gotten her to tell him about the first time she had sex, dammit. I knew this because of the videos. Videos where he'd humiliate her. I never watched them but what she said was often on the front cover of a newspaper the next day. Stuck up in the newsagents window like she was somehow crying for help in anyway she could. Crying for help that I couldn't give her. He had also somehow found out we had once had a fish named giggles but my own sister never thought to mention me to the evil sociopath clown. Charmed. I'm sure Giggles is very happy.

"Her sister." The Joker drawled with an amused smirk. He tapped the flat side of the blade against my chin. I flinched rather violently. My chest crackled with sparks of fear. "You know, she never mentioned that she had a sister. When I was, erm, _playing _with her she begged for mommy and daddy but she never once mentioned having a little sister." I stared at him, wondering if he expected me to be upset by this.

"I know." I whispered.

"Where is she?" The Joker suddenly growled, leaning closer towards me so that I smelt his horrid breath as it wafted across my face. I gagged slightly and tried to lean back, only to be held in place by The Joker. I turned my head to the side but he just yanked it back around again. There was no escape.

"Hospital." I answered quickly, assuming that he was talking about my sister.

"Why aren't you there with her?" The Joker asked, his anger somewhat fading a tiny bit. I stared at him for a while. There were a few possible answers, one of which being the truth but how could I look this serial killing insane clown in the face and say that what he had done to my sister made me so sick that I can't stand being in the same room as her? That would upset him. I guess that him being upset would not end well with me. I could lie, say I had the flu. He'd probably realize I was lying and hurt me. So I gave him the answer that I thought he was looking for.

"I'm a freak." I said shakily. The Joker frowned and leant down so he was eye level with me. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow as if he didn't understand. "I'm not coping with any of this the way that I should be. I haven't cried or shown any signs of trauma from the event that should be expected in a young person my age going through such an event. Being around my sister will only upset her when she sees my lack of sympathy. It would be best for the both of us if I stay at home until Trinity is rehabilitated. I'm a freak." Ah, a mixture of sentences from my therapist and my parents there.

"Like me." The Joker said, sounding as if he was thinking about something totally different. He let go of me and took a step back. I rubbed my face and eyes, wishing he'd disappear if I wished hard enough. "So Bee-ah-trix, how are you going to 'cope' when I leave?" He turned to look at me. I froze. To be honest, I just assumed he'd kill me. The idea that I'd be able to move when he left was a whole new concept to me. I thought about it long and hard. And by long I mean I thought about it for at least a minute before I realized I had been quiet for far too long.

"I'll phone the police." I said honestly. The words tumbled from my mouth quickly. It was the first and only answer I had in mind.

"And what will that achieve?" The Joker asked, mockingly. He started to circle me as I stayed in the middle of the room, trembling in fear. He pointed his knife at me and smirked. "Do you think they'll catch me? That you'll be a hero?"

"No but my parents will be mad if I don't." I said before I could stop myself. He burst into a fit of laughter. Proper, doubled over fit of laughter. I stared at him in confusion. I wasn't trying to be funny so why on earth was he laughing?

"I thought you'd be doing it to protect your sister!" The Joker cackled. "You're right, princess, you are a freak." And with that he left. Just left. Just walked out of the room and out of the front door like Trinity used to do before she met him, when she had boys to see and parties to attend. I wished that I could do that.

/

"So, The Joker didn't hurt you, he didn't threaten you or your sister, he didn't tell you why he was here, he just asked who you are, where your sister was and then he just walked out of the front door?" The rather round officer asked suspiciously. I nodded and looked over at my parents who sat on either side of me. They looked embarrassed.

"There's no evidence of him being here." A rather skinny looking cop said as he stood behind the round cop. "Are you sure it was him?"

"Yeah." I said slowly. "I don't think there's anyone else who looks like The Joker."

"You know, wasting police time is a very serious thing, Bellatrix?" The round policeman said.

"My name's Beatrix." I said quietly. "And I'm not lying. I swear to God, The Joker was here! Why would I make this up?"

"You're seeing a therapist, is that correct?" The round man said. I nodded. A fire started right where my heart should be. The way he said that, the way he looked at his friend. It was as if to say 'ah mentally ill kids again'. Why wouldn't they just believe me? "Right, I'll give her a ring. Maybe you and your therapist can talk this over. You can realise what you've... really seen. You must be feeling a lot of emotions that you're not dealing with. I'm sure a good talk is what you need." I got to my feet, pretty darn pissed that no one was taking me seriously.

"I want to speak to Commissioner Gordon." I yelled. He'd understand. He'd believe me. He seemed to be the only damn person who did either of those things lately.

"Commissioner Gordon has far more important matters to deal with, like finding The Joker and helping your sister. He doesn't have time to play make believe." The skinny cop spat. I felt as if I had been punched right in the chest. No one believed me. I could be in danger and nobody believed me. I had never felt so alone in my life.

/

**_Authors Note: _**_Thank you for the reviews! I appreciate them and will start to answer all of your questions or anything when I get into the swing of things. Thank you so much for reading. Please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

I wasn't in a good place after that.

That sounds strange doesn't it. _A good place_. My depression, if ever I had it before, came back with a roaring and blinding force. It was like a tidal wave. I could see it coming and I tried my best to prepare myself but the moment it hit with full force it broke every part of me. The thing with depression is that it doesn't only make you feel a bit sad. It steals you of everything you have. It takes away your effort, your interests, your hobbies. Anything it can find it will eat away at until you're nothing but a shell of a person lying on your bed mentally listing the reasons why you should just go over to those pills and down the lot of them in one go. And it does feel like a place. It feels like you're stuck at the bottom of a deep, deep, dark pit and no matter how much you try to climb up to the bright outside you're just stuck.

I was in the pit for a month until my sister came home. I thought that maybe she was the key out of the pit. Life would get back on track. Maybe she'd be in her own pit but we could help each other out.

No.

She was still in the pit, don't get me wrong, but she had help. She had people throwing down ladders and easing her back out into the light. Our pits weren't the same and I understand that she had a hell of a lot more reasons to be in her pit. But saying that doesn't change anything.

I'm still making lame metaphors for depression.

"Look, the Smiths from down the road sent over another plate of cupcakes. How lovely of them." Mother beamed as she brought in a plate of cupcakes into the room and placed them down onto the table in between myself and Trinity.

"Lovely." Trinity repeated with a small, shaking smile before taking a small nibble of her toast. I stared at her as she eyed up the plate of goods. The makeup was doing a good job of covering up the scars and the wig that was placed over her short hair looks realistic. I forced out a small smile and tried to make myself see how amazing my sister was doing. She was kidnapped and tortured and she's still doing OK. Part of me just laughed at that. She wasn't doing OK. She was a small trembling little thing who still cried herself to sleep every night before waking up with nightmares of The Joker. I didn't have nightmares about The Joker. I had nightmares about my family.

"Oh Beatrix, why are you so sad?" My mother sighed. I looked up at her and bit my lip. She looked concerned. I wanted to figure out what I could say to make her believe me but whatever I had tried before only received sad smiles and shakes of the head. "I wish you were happy."

"I am." I lied. "I'm just tired."

"You should have gone to bed earlier." My father was quick to say. I didn't want to argue so I just nodded and watched as he left the room to get his briefcase ready or something. Mother followed, needing to tidy something up. I didn't pay much attention to what everybody was doing anymore. I just went along with it all. I looked over at Trinity. She was picking at a pink cupcake. Her stomach had shrunk when she was with The Joker because she was hardly fed anything. That means that now she find it hard to eat anything at all.

"Why did you tell people that you met him?" She suddenly said. I jumped in my seat. I had not at all expected her to speak to me, let alone know about the whole Joker thing.

"Because I did." I whispered slowly. "You have to believe me." She looked up at me, her face deadly serious.

"It's all very far fetched." She said. "He just came in to say hello. Come on, Beatrix."

"I'm not lying." I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "You have to believe me! Nobody believes me."

"Why would he just come and visit you and not even touch you?" Trinity snapped. She was furious. I looked up at her feeling nothing but fear. "Do you know how many times he touched me? How many times he'd tell me he'd kill my family if he ever so much as met them." My bottom lip began to tremble. Not because I was scared of The Joker hurting me or my parents but because she referred to her family as if I wasn't one. "I just find it highly unlikely that he would just show up, have a chat a leave. You don't know him, Beatrix. He's not like that and this is a dangerous game to play. If you want attention just tell us. Stop being such a child."

"I'm going to be late for school." I heard myself say. I was stunned. Trinity had never said so much in one go since before she was taken. She had never been so angry at anyone after she'd been taken. Why was it all directed towards me?

/

After school I walked home at a snail's pace, angrily drawling over what had happened that day. Not only had at least three teachers made horrid little judging remarks about my lack of concern for my sister but also the girls in my class had somehow found out that I 'made up' a visit from The Joker to 'get attention'. For this reason somebody thought it would be a good idea to throw my open bag into a puddle. Now I had a wet bag and two ruined books that I really liked reading. It just wasn't my day. I kicked a stone along with the tip of my show and tried to imagine up some sort of imaginary friend so that I could vent but nothing would appear. What did appear though, was a white van.

I probably would have heard it sneak up behind me if I didn't have my headphones in. I probably would have also heard the footsteps as the man sneaked up behind me. But I didn't and I only realised something wasn't right when a hand clamped over my mouth and yanked me backwards. I tried to scream and flail out my limbs but it was no use. I began to hope someone was seeing thing but no. There was nobody in the streets and I was yanked into a van before anybody could come even close to seeing what was going on.

"No. Let me go!" I yelled as I was thrown to the floor of the van.

"But you've only just got here." A familiar voice said. My stomach dropped as I looked up. There he was, The Joker. At some point during the last month I began to wonder if I had really actually made up his visit. Looking at him in his smeared greasepaint and bright clothes at that very moment I could tell that he is most certainly real. "Hi." He said with a grin. The van lurched forward but The Joker didn't even sway. I stared at him and didn't even bother to get up. "Bee-ah-trix, am I right?"

"Yes." I whispered, genuinely surprised he remembered my name.

"Now Beatrix, do you remember what you said to me last time we had a little get together?" He asked as he leant forward, hands on his knees. I sat up and pushed myself back. I didn't want to get close to this man. I also didn't want him to realise how scared I was of him. He could probably smell fear. He probably fed off of it. "I'll tell you." He said when I took too long to answer. "You said that you'd phone the police. Now, I have a, erm, buddy down the police office, down at the MCU and the didn't hear a thing about it. I _pride_ myself in the fact that every little thing the police know I do, gets sent right to the top. Right to the commissioner of police himself. So either Gotham's stopped caring about me or you lied." He grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me to my feet. I let out a small yelp, letting my fear finally show through. "And I don't like liars."

"I _did_ phone the police." I said raising my hands in a sort of surrender. My voice aimed to be strong and loud but it came out in a hoarse whimper. "I swear." He glared at me and I could tell he didn't believe me.

"I was counting on you." He said as he pulled me closer to him. I could smell him again. I gagged slightly and tried to only breathe through my mouth. "I wanted Gotham to know that I didn't give up on your big sister. I, erm, I stick to things. If you're gonna do something you gotta stick with it until the end." By the end I assumed he meant my sister's death. A chill ran through me as I tried to lean away from the madman. Tears gathered in my eyes and blurred my vision

"I told them but they didn't believe me." I admitted in a rush of words. The Joker looked at me and started to chew the inside of his lip. Clearly he wanted more of an explanation. "You didn't hurt me or threaten me. They thought I was making it up to get attention."

"They..." The Joker repeated.

"My parents and the police." I said instantly. I swallowed before adding, "And my teachers and the kids in my school and my therapist and my sister. I asked to talk to Commissioner Gordon but they wouldn't let me."

"Poor little, Beatrix." The Joker said as he lifted up his hand and began to rub the side of my face very roughly. "Nobody cares when it's not about your big sister, do they?" Suddenly, a large smile grew across his face as if he had a sickeningly great idea. "Do you want them to believe you?" I nodded. Of course I did. "Well to show you how much _I care_ about you..." He said that with such sarcasm. "I'll make sure they don't even consider doubting you this time." He smiled and leant forward again, the tip of his nose brushing mine. "I'll even take you to see dear old Gordon myself." I stared at him for while in confusion, my stomach flipping and turning in fear. He let go of my and I instantly stumbled backward before falling to my butt when the van made a swift turn. "Change of plan!" The Joker called to the driver. "Take us to the MCU."

"I just want to go home." I said as I watched The Joker take off his leather gloves and stuff them into his pocket. Home had never seemed more appealing until now.

"You think that they want you there?" He asked as he took a few steps closer to me. "Oh no, no, no. They're too busy with Trin-i-ty. They don't need you getting in the way." He suddenly jumped, landing in a crouching position in front of me. I let out a short scream and tried to scuttle back but he grabbed my upper arm in lightning speed. "Ah, ta, ta. I didn't hurt you last time and that's why nobody believed you. We can't make that same mistake again, now can we?"

What followed was the most painful trip in a vehicle in my entire life. By the time The Joker stood back with a grin and opened the van's door I was in tears and ready to curl up and die. I could feel the blood falling from my probably broken nose, my newly split lip and a rather deep feeling slice on my temple. I had never been punched so many times in my life until that day. Heck I'd never even been punched in the face until then. I yelled out in pain when The Joker grabbed my hair and literally yanked me out of the van.

"Show time, princess." He laughed as he shoved a gun against my temple. Luckily he chose to press the gun against my not-bleeding temple but I don't think that was by choice. So, with a gun to my head and a hand in my hair The Joker yanked me into a building. My eyes were blurry with tears so I couldn't see where we were but by the gasps of shock I could tell that we weren't meant to be wherever we were.

"Bring me Commissioner Gordon or I'll blow out her brains." The Joker sang happily.

"PUT THE GIRL DOWN." A voice yelled. I closed my eyes, damn sure that I was going to die right there and then. The Joker sighed from behind me and then slammed the butt of the gun into the side of my head. It wasn't hard enough to knock me unconscious but I was pretty sure it was hard enough to break the skin. I let out a scream of pain.

"PLEASE." I yelled. The Joker laughed from behind me and stroked my hair with the gun.

"There's a good girl." He cooed.

"OK, OK." A man yelled. "He's on his way. Just don't hurt the girl."

"Don't tell me what to do." The Joker laughed as he slammed the gun against my head again. I was in so much pain I felt like throwing up. By the time Commissioner Gordon's voice reached my ears I let out a sigh of relief, my knees going lose slightly and my arms sagging down by my side

"Let the girl go, Joker, and we can talk." He said so calmly that I could almost feel myself starting to relax.

"Oh no, the girl is the one who wants to talk to you." The Joker grinned and pushed me forward until we're only a few feet away from Commissioner Gordon. There was security guards pointing guns at us and I saw Gordon's hand flinch towards his own gun. So many guns. I wanted to scream out that I was innocent. I wanted to make them stop pointing guns at me. I was hurt. The Joker's goons were even pointing guns at the security so they couldn't shoot The Joker in the back. "Don't you recognize her? See, I told you. Nobody cares." With that he yanked my head back so that I was forced to look up at him. He grinned down at me cruelly. "Just me." He shoved my head forward again so I stared at Gordon. He looked guilty. He really didn't recognize me. Great, a clown did but the one person I wanted to see didn't. "_This _is my dear Trinity's little sister."

"Beatrix." Gordon sighed. "What did you do to her?"

"Only what you wanted me to do." The Joker said happily. "See, when I last saw Beatrix nobody believed her. They said that because she wasn't hurt she was making it u_p_. So this time I gave her proof."

"You saw her before?" Gordon yelled. The Joker forced me to nod, using my hair almost like a puppet string. I hissed in pain and let my body flinch in a pathetic attempt to get away.

"Tell the nice man, Beatrix."

"He was in my house and I phoned the police but they told me I was lying." I said in between big heavy sobs. I wanted to stop crying but I also knew that there would never be a better time to cry. My crying was appropriate here. "They wouldn't let me see you and tell you."

"I'm so sorry." Gordon said sounding like he had never said a truer word.

"Boss, The Batman is here." One of the goons yelled.

"Well I think that I've outstayed my welcome." The Joker said as I felt his hand untwist itself from my hair. "But, Beatrix, feel free to stay longer..." With that he threw my forward. I hit my knees on the hard floor before falling onto my face, my forehead bouncing off of the shiny, hard floor. I didn't bother to get up. I let myself feel the pain that ran through almost every part of my body. I was in too much pain. I was still worried about The Joker. What if he was still there? What if he was behind me? Waiting for me to move? I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to control my sobs.

"He's gone now." I heard Commissioner Gordon say a few minutes later. His hand was on my shoulder blade. I didn't look up. I didn't want him to see my crying so hard still. "The ambulance is on it's way. Shall I call your parents?"

"No." I heard myself say. It was true though. They were the people I least wanted to see at that moment.

/

**_A/N: _**_Thank you for the reviews. Sorry for the time in between chapters. Who knew taking a class in an art college would take up so much time? _

_Please review! _


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